Getting Over the Rainbow
Last weekend, The McFlies played a set on a madcap evening at the Old Nick, my local pub and favourite hangout. We got all dressed up in our eighties gear, did our wild thing, and then enjoyed a crazy Halloween party with The Magpies and the astonishing Lesley and the Lys. It was a great night, and all kinds of good clean fun went down. Among the best moments, for me, was giving the girls who run the Old Nick my Pink Panther.
See, the Old Nick has a rainbow on the window, a biggish one. That's not unusual in Toronto, and most people don't even think twice about it. It might once have meant "gay bar," but today, it mostly means "all are welcome." And there's nowhere I feel more welcome for a beer and conversation and a few tunes.
Where I grew up, things were different. When I was in high school, anybody who was even a little bit different often had to pay a high price for the privelege. The word "queer" and others like it were thrown around, and not just at people who were gay. Anybody who was different got called "queer," and often hurtfully.
I was one of those different people. I wasn't gay, but I was different in lots of ways. I got called queer a lot. I can't pretend it didn't affect me, but I'm proud that it didn't stop me.
In Grade 11, I had some of my very best moments wearing a furry pink suit, with makeup on my face, zipping around the basketball court with a megaphone, cheering on the local team as the school mascot: The Pink Panther. It never occurred to me that it might be a queer thing to do. When I found out it was, I took twice as much pride in it. A peculiar form of bravery, or at least bravado.
Christmas of 1985, my parents did a brave and funny thing too: they gave me a big stuffed pink panther, under the Christmas tree. I thought it was a hoot. I didn't realize at the time that it might have been a big deal for them, but I've kept it all these years... carrying it from home to home, even in my cabin in the woods in Nova Scotia.
Twenty-one years later, I'm pleased to report the Pink Panther found a home with Pam & Christine at the Old Nick on Halloween night. And on All Saints Day, I curled up on the couch with my cat and my ukulele, and watched The Wizard of Oz on TV, from start to finish.
Queer, eh?
See, the Old Nick has a rainbow on the window, a biggish one. That's not unusual in Toronto, and most people don't even think twice about it. It might once have meant "gay bar," but today, it mostly means "all are welcome." And there's nowhere I feel more welcome for a beer and conversation and a few tunes.
Where I grew up, things were different. When I was in high school, anybody who was even a little bit different often had to pay a high price for the privelege. The word "queer" and others like it were thrown around, and not just at people who were gay. Anybody who was different got called "queer," and often hurtfully.
I was one of those different people. I wasn't gay, but I was different in lots of ways. I got called queer a lot. I can't pretend it didn't affect me, but I'm proud that it didn't stop me.
In Grade 11, I had some of my very best moments wearing a furry pink suit, with makeup on my face, zipping around the basketball court with a megaphone, cheering on the local team as the school mascot: The Pink Panther. It never occurred to me that it might be a queer thing to do. When I found out it was, I took twice as much pride in it. A peculiar form of bravery, or at least bravado.
Christmas of 1985, my parents did a brave and funny thing too: they gave me a big stuffed pink panther, under the Christmas tree. I thought it was a hoot. I didn't realize at the time that it might have been a big deal for them, but I've kept it all these years... carrying it from home to home, even in my cabin in the woods in Nova Scotia.
Twenty-one years later, I'm pleased to report the Pink Panther found a home with Pam & Christine at the Old Nick on Halloween night. And on All Saints Day, I curled up on the couch with my cat and my ukulele, and watched The Wizard of Oz on TV, from start to finish.
Queer, eh?
Labels: pink panther, queer
posted by David Newland at 3.11.06
1 Comments:
:)
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